Sandy was pouring himself some coffee when Seth came stumbling into the room in his robe.
"Seth! Good to finally see you up, son. What are your plans for this beautiful sunny California day?"
"Beautiful, Dad? Did you hear the weather forecast? It's supposed to be eighty-five degrees today. That's Farenheit, Dad. In the shade. With eighty percent humidity. What I'm doing today is staying inside with my best friend, the air conditioner."
As Seth was talking, Ryan came into the kitchen dressed in shorts and a t-shirt with his cleats hanging over his shoulder.
"And, my best friend, Ryan. Dude, we've got an appointment in front of the Playstation today."
"Sorry, man." He reached into the cupboard for a box of cereal. "Morning, Sandy. Seth, I've got soccer practice today. Coach was definitely not impressed with how we played this week, so he called for an extra Saturday practice." He shook his head and then said, more to himself than anyone else, "I'm not looking forward to the wind sprints today."
"Do you need a ride to the field?" Sandy asked, as he closed the fridge.
"Nah, I'm good," Ryan said. "I've got lots of time so I'll just take my bike."
"Hey, kid."
Ryan turned around just in time to see a bottle of water hurtling his way. He put his hand up just in time, and deftly caught it.
"Don't forget your water. It's going to be a hot one out there today."
Ryan was early getting to practice and took the time to warm up and stretch. The grass felt cool as he sat on the field, but the sun was starting to heat things up already. Normally, they could count on a breeze from the ocean to give them some respite when the weather turned sweltering, but the day was calm so there was no hope for such relief.
As he stretched, he listened to the other guys dissect the reasons for the extra practice. He knew exactly why they were there on a Saturday - they were lazy, they were overconfident, they didn't try hard enough, the other team wanted it more - but he wasn't about to put his two cents in. He was a good enough player for his teammates to acknowledge that he belonged with them on the team, but they were still Luke's friends first and everyone knew that Marissa was now with Ryan and not Luke. They didn't go out of their way to be friendly.
"I think Coach has got a stick up his ass."
"I heard Coach's wife has been busting his balls, so he's going to bust ours."
"I heard his wife is doing the assistant coach, and this way he can keep an eye on him."
They were all still laughing when Coach finally appeared. The smiles quickly disappeared when they saw that Coach was still not in a joking mood.
"All right, boys. You were all pathetic at the last game; you were winded before the first half was over. So we'll start with building up your cardiovascular for warm-up. Two mile run."
There were lots of moans and groans as the boys finished their stretching.
"I can make it three! Now get going and no lollygagging." He looked pointedly at Nelson and Campbell. "I'll be watching."
They all set out together, but were soon spread out as they each found their pace. Ryan actually liked running, and settled into his stride near the front of the pack. The air was thick with the humidity, giving him an extra challenge as he pushed himself along. He could hear the guys trashtalking behind him, but he did his best to block it out.
"Coach isn't looking. We should hop in a car and drive the route. If only we knew someone who could steal cars."
"It's going to be hot out today. I bet it'll feel like being in a house on fire."
Ryan turned around and ran backwards. "You know, Saunders, if you had've been able to stop, I don't know, one shot the other day, we might not be here."
"Oh, yeah, Atwood? Well, maybe if you had scored, I don't know, one goal, we might not be here."
"I at least got a shot on net. How about you, Luke? Did you even touch the ball?"
Luke and Saunders passed him. "What's the matter, Atwood? We going too fast for you?"
Ryan knew they were going way too fast to make it to the end when they still had over a mile to go. He picked up his pace a little, but let them pull ahead, sure he'd pass them before they got back to the field. The pavement was starting to heat up and he could feel the burn on the soles of his feet. He kept them in his sight, not letting them get too far ahead. He felt sweat start to trickle down his back, between his shoulder blades. He picked up the bottom of his shirt and used to to wipe the sweat off his brow. As they reached the last quarter mile, he was steadily gaining on Luke and Saunders, closing the distance between them. They were slowing down, and Ryan put a final kick on. A hundred yards before they reached the field, he passed them.
"Slow and steady, boys," he said when they caught up to him at the field. "You'll never beat me, Luke."
They collapsed on the field, though in the short time they were gone, the sun had negated the grass's cooling effect. As they changed into their cleats, Ryan noted how hot he was already. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and practice hadn't even gotten underway yet.
"Pair up," the coach said once everyone had made it back from the run. "One dribbles downfield being chased. Switch it up and come back. Chasers, don't steal the ball - just put pressure on them."
Ryan ended up paired with Mitch, a halfback who was known for his speed. Though Ryan had a headstart, Mitch was quickly on his heels, trying to get a toe in and kick the ball away. Ryan stopped and put his foot on the ball. "Ease up, Mitch. Coach said no stealing."
"Atwood!" the coach yelled. "Keep moving."
Mitch grinned at him. "Keep it away from me, and I won't steal it."
Ryan took off again, trying to keep ahead of Mitch, having a bit more success this time. When they switched it up, Mitch took the ball and streaked down the field. Ryan chased, but he was never close to catching him. When they got back to the start, both boys were bent over, breathing hard. Ryan felt the sweat run down his forehead and drip off the end of his nose.
"Smoked you," Mitch said.
"There's a reason I play striker. I don't like chasing guys down the field for the ball."
"All right," the coach broke in, ending their short-lived breather. "You guys were positively sloppy out there in the game. We're going to do three-on-two drills. If the ball gets to the goal, defense will sprint to the other end of the field and back. If the ball doesn't get to the goal, forwards will do the running. That means no half-assing the drill. Game speed, boys."
They split up into offense and defense. Ryan groaned when he realized he was paired up with Nelson and Campbell. They were nice guys, but they were benchwarmers for a reason. To make matters worse, Mitch was up for the defense. Ryan passed the ball to Nelson, who stood still waiting for it to get to him instead of running to meet it. Of course, Mitch was on it immediately, and kicked the ball over the sidelines.
"Atwood, your team is running."
They took off down the field. When he went to make the turn to go back, his legs went rubbery and he stumbled to the ground. Nelson stopped and reached out a hand to help him up. "You okay, man?"
"Yeah," Ryan said, and gave him a half smile. "Tripped over my own two feet."
They got back to the drill and barely had a chance to rest before it was their turn again. This time, Ryan kept the ball himself, planning to get to the net if it killed him. He deked the first defenseman, and then saw an opening. He took a shot, but the goalie got his foot on it, bouncing the ball back into the air at Ryan. He jumped and headed the ball into the net. As he came down, his legs gave away under him. Nelson was there again to help him up. "Awesome, man. I so did not want to run again."
"Atwood!"
Ryan turned in the direction of the coach, but he was having trouble seeing through the headache he'd suddenly developed. He must have headed the ball wrong.
"You have team mates. Use them."
"Yes, sir," Ryan answered, shaking his head trying to clear away the headache. He tried to use his shirt to wipe his face again, but it was soaked through and wasn't much use to him.
The sun beat down on them as he waited for his turn again. This time, at least, he had Luke with him, so he stood a chance. He passed to Luke, who dribbled down the field. He tried to lob the ball over the defenders' heads to the other wing, but it went too far and was out of bounds.
"Atwood, Ward, Campbell. You guys are running."
Luke grinned at him. "Race you."
Luke took off down the field. Ryan started to chase him, but his head was still pounding and he was at the point that he didn't care if Luke beat him. Luke was laughing when they got to the turnaround point. "I'll always be faster than you, Ryan."
Ryan's stomach was starting to do flips to go along with pounding head. "Yeah, but I got the girl," he said under his breath.
They got back to the other end of the field, and Ryan was afraid his Cap'n Crunch was going to come back up. "Coach, can I go to the bathroom?"
"Sure, but hustle it up. Okay, boys, passing drills. Pair up."
Ryan ran towards the school locker rooms. His cleats slipped out underneath him as he stepped onto the smooth floor. They weren't supposed to wear their cleats inside, but he wasn't in the mood to take them off and put them back on again, and no one was around to know, anyway. The click of his shoes echoed through the empty hallways, and the cool air inside gave him a chill, making him shiver. He jogged towards the toilets, getting to them just in time, as his stomach revolted and brought up his breakfast. He leaned his head against the cool wall of the stall while he tried to steady his breathing and get his stomach back under his own control.
He wasn't feeling better, but he knew he'd been gone long enough and he didn't want to incur any further wrath from the coach. The heat was a shock to him as he left the building, the humidity making the air thick and hard to breathe. It wrapped around him, making each step an effort as he pushed his way towards the field. When he got there, Coach told him to go help Luke and Mitch take shots on Saunders. He nodded and started to jog off.
"Atwood!"
He turned back to the coach, wondering what he'd done wrong this time.
The coach was pointing in the opposite direction he was running. "They're that way."
Ryan looked where the coach was pointing, seeing Luke and Mitch at the other end of the field. He shook his head and ran in the right direction. When he got there, the assistant coach started talking to him, but Ryan couldn't understand what he was saying. He looked questioningly at Luke.
"Coach told me to come here," he said. The sun was unrelenting, beating down on him. He couldn't get away from it, and it just kept getting hotter and hotter. He briefly wondered why the sun chose him to shine on.
"Get yourself some balls, dude," Luke said.
"You can't make me go away," he said. He could barely see Luke through the haze the hot ground was emitting. He felt like he was in a cartoon, with all the wavy lines indicating how hot it was. He didn't need the wavy lines though. He knew how hot it was. It was like an oven.
"Ryan, you okay?"
Ryan shook his head. He was so hot, he thought he might burst into flames, and briefly wondered if he might actually already be on fire. Luke was walking towards him with his hands outstretched, and the thought of someone touching him, hot skin on skin, made his stomach turn. For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick again, right there on the field, but he was saved from that embarrassment when he passed out.
The coach ordered the boys to move him into the shade, and called 911 when he started convulsing. When the paramedics arrived, they put cold packs under his arms, against his neck, and on his groin. They started an IV to push fluids.
When the Cohens arrived at the emergency room, they were informed that Ryan had had three more seizures on the way to the hospital. The doctors had done everything they could to bring his temperature down, but it was too late. His organs had started to shut down and there was nothing they could do for him.
THE END